


Orpheus, Descending

by queenofthorns



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-12 16:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11165763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenofthorns/pseuds/queenofthorns
Summary: Spoilers for Season 3 of "Battlestar Galactica."Set after "Maelstrom", a kind of alternative version of "The Son Also Rises" in which Lee doesn't quit being a pilot, or become Baltar's defense attorney.





	Orpheus, Descending

At the funeral, the Admiral’s hand trembles as he places Kara’s wings on an empty coffin. Lee’s own voice is steady as he extols Starbuck’s virtues; this is part of his job as CAG. He’s done this so many times that he has the speech down. He says “courage” and “duty” and “honor” and ignores the other, truer words that whisper in his ear.

_Infuriating. Intoxicating. He hated her after New Caprica. He will never love anyone else._

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the President says gently afterwards. “I know how close you and Captain Thrace were.”

 _All this has happened before_ , Lee thinks. Roslin’s words remind him painfully of the other times he’s given Kara up for lost, only to have her find him again. In his secret, silent prayers to the gods in whom he has no faith, Lee still asks for a miracle, even though he put her in the air and he watched her die. 

“I’m close to all of my pilots,” he says.

Each breath, each beat of his living heart take him farther from Kara.

***

His father wants to ground Lee.

“It’s a hard thing,” the Admiral says, “watching one of your pilots die. Especially ...”

He looks away. His eyes are suspiciously bright and there’s a patch of gray stubble on his jaw that he must have missed shaving. He’s developed a permanent sag in his shoulders.

Lee is torn between sympathy for and jealousy of his father’s public disintegration. His own wounds lie deep under his skin, far from the prying eyes of his shipmates. His clothes are immaculate, shoes spit-shined and gleaming, and his spine is ramrod straight, as if he’s on parade in front of an entire fleet of admirals. When he’s in his cockpit, he can fool himself into thinking Kara’s still there, on his wing, flying just out of his reach. If his father shackles him to _Galactica_ , then he’ll lose her for good. He has to keep flying.

“Dad,” Lee replied, “I’ve watched dozens of them die. Kara is ... Kara was no different.”

He’s had years of practice hiding his feelings from strangers and friends, and, if he’s totally honest, from himself. He’s convincing enough, or his father is so distracted by grief, that the Admiral doesn’t raise the subject again.

***

Dee heard him screaming Kara’s name on the comms that day - hell, the whole ship heard him - but to his infinite relief she’s never tried to talk about it. He accepts without comment that her shifts in the CIC are opposite to his flight schedule; he suspects she’s arranged things this way on purpose. In the rare moments when they’re together and both awake, she watches Lee with the wary expression of an earthquake survivor waiting for the aftershocks. He knows he should reassure her that he’s made his choices and he won’t forsake them now. But it is infinitely easier to keep his craven silence, so his brief conversations with his wife are filled with awkward pauses and uneasy cliches, words choked off before either of them crosses the red line. 

Dee deserves better. But he cannot give her what he lacks.

***

On his way back from the flight deck, Lee lingers at the memorial wall, at the spot Kara chose, next to Kat. Soon he’ll let her join the dead, but not yet, not while he can still see the lift of her chin and hear the timbre of her laughter. Zak was flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, but Lee can’t remember the sound of his brother’s voice any more. He’s seen the pictures on his father’s desk and in Kara’s locker, but that boy, that man, isn’t Zak. He wonders how long it will be before Kara too is reduced to the picture he carries hidden in his pocket, a lifeless congealment of colored dots and lines.

***

He pushes open the hatch, hoping that this is one of the days that Dee is somewhere else. There’s a slim figure standing by the desk, her back to Lee, so all he sees are a flight-suit and bright hair. It’s probably Showboat, making free with his quarters, which is something he’ll have to speak to her about. Still, his breath catches in his throat.

And then Kara turns, grinning, and says “Hi, Lee!”

He closes his eyes; he’s in worse shape than he thought, hallucinating Kara’s presence in his quarters. Maybe his father was right and he should be grounded. What if he gets someone killed because he sees things that aren’t there? Maybe he should see Cottle for that mandatory psychological ...

“You might want to close your mouth, Lee,” Kara says, her voice brimming with laughter. “You’re starting to drool.”

Lee’s eyes snap open. Kara’s still there, still smiling, with that look on her face that she always gets - _got_ , Lee reminds himself sternly - when she pulled off something insane.

“You’re ... not...” He shakes his head. “You’re not here,” he says. “You’re dead. I saw you die.”

Kara nods her agreement. “Yeah,” she says. “And now I’m back.”

“That’s not possible,” Lee says. He’s dreaming or grief has driven him mad. Either way, it’s impossible that Kara Thrace, whose plane blew up right in front of him, is standing here talking to him.

“C’mon, Lee,” she says. “Don’t be difficult.”

Lee frowns, trying to make sense of all of this, and then the obvious explanation hits him like a right hook to the jaw. _Gods! Not her. Not Kara._

As if she’s read his mind, Kara says “I’m not a Cylon, Lee.”

“And if you were?”

She shrugs. “I probably wouldn’t admit it.”

“So why should I believe you?”

She steps closer to him until he can see a sheen of sweat on her upper lip and the flutter of her eyelids. Her breath is warm on his face. “Because you’re Lee Adama and I’m Kara Thrace," she says.  

Lee realizes that he doesn’t care if she _is_ a Cylon and she snaps his neck like a toothpick. He doesn’t care that they’ll have one hell of a time convincing everyone that she’s not a threat to the Fleet, because the Admiral and the President will surely want to toss her out the nearest airlock. Right now, the only thing that matters is that eight days, sixteen hours and twelve minutes after he thought he’d lost her forever, Kara is _here_ with him and he’s never going to let her go, Cylon, ghost, whatever she is. He cups her face in his hands and kisses her; and she kisses him back, again and again.

“Gods, Kara," Lee gasps. "I’ve missed you."

***

Thanks to the epically bad timing that’s always dogged Lee and Kara, Dee chooses this precise moment to return from CIC. She doesn’t say a word, but the set of her jaw is enough to start Lee stammering an explanation. Something, _anything,_ to take away the desolation of her face.

"Dee," he says, hating the catch in his voice, hating that he's doing this to her, hating that he cannot do otherwise.

She ignores him and starts pulling her clothes off the hangers. Lee watches, frozen, as she drags her duffel bag off the highest shelf; it’s still stamped “PO1 Dualla” as if none of this - her promotion, her marriage - ever happened. The thump of the bag onto the floor rouses him from his stupor.

“What are you doing?” he asks, though it’s painfully obvious.

There’s a shimmer of tears in Dee’s eyes, but her voice is controlled, as if she’s been saving up these words for a long time. “This isn’t working,” she says. “I thought ... I thought if I tried hard enough, I could make it work, but ... it takes two people to make a marriage. And I’ve never had more than half of you at the best of times.”

“Dee ...” he tries again.

She holds up her hand. “No,” she says. “Let me finish. After Starbuck ... after Kara died, I thought ...” She falters at last. “I don’t know what I thought.”

Lee glances over at Kara, to see how she’s taking this, but she’s pretending to study her cuticles.

“Just look at _me_ ,” Dee says, and now her voice is rougher and angrier. “That’s all I ever wanted, was for you to see _me_.“ She zips the duffel bag in a series of short, violent movements, her head bowed so Lee can’t see her face.

“What are you going to say?” Lee asks.

“About what?” Dee raises her head.

“About ...” he hesitates, the words stuck in his throat. “About Kara ... If people ask...”

“Oh!” Her lips twist in a parody of a smile. “So now you’re worried about your feelings being public knowledge? But three months ago, in the ring, you didn’t care?”

Kara’s right there, but Dee hasn’t so much as glanced in her direction.

“Don’t worry,” Dee says, swinging her duffel over her shoulder. “I have a little pride. I’m not going to tell anyone my husband left me for a dead woman.” Somehow, despite her tiny frame, she manages to slam the hatch shut, leaving Lee to stare at the door, and recognize - again - how badly he’s frakked things up this.

“Nice work, champ!” Kara claps. “Very smooth.”

“Kara!” Lee realizes what harm Dee can do if she wants to. It’s only a matter of time before Marines are at his quarters. They’ll arrest Kara and probably Lee as well and then .... “I have to stop her!”

Kara puts a finger on his lips. “Ssssh,” she says. “It’s going to be OK.”

“No!” Lee says. “You _have_ to take this seriously. Dee’s seen you, and ... I don’t think she’s too happy with me _or_ you, so I doubt she’ll be inclined to let this one go...”

“Lee,” Kara interrupts. “No-one can see me. Except you.”

 _Of course,_ Lee thinks. Because she’s not really here, and he should have realized that from Dee’s non-reaction. The only reason he didn’t is because he’s going insane and he needs to find Doc Cottle right now.

“You’re not crazy,” Kara says, as if she’s read his mind again.

“But wouldn’t I just tell myself that anyway, even if I’d imagined you?” If he hasn’t imagined her, how does she know what he’s thinking?

"Stop, Lee. Stop overthinking everything." Kara rolls her eyes. “Or else you’ll drive _me_ crazy.”

There is nothing in all the worlds he wants more than to have Kara back, but the very desperation of his need for her makes him doubt his senses.  

“Lee,” Kara says, her shoulders squared, and her voice devoid of laughter now. “I didn’t choose my death and I didn’t get to choose how or when I came back."

Her proximity is nerve wracking. The way the dark mole on her neck moves as she speaks, the slight puff of air on his cheek when she exhales, set Lee's blood thrumming. He wants to bury his face in the hollow of her throat, inhale her fine, soap-scented skin.

"Ow!" The jab of her ungentle finger recalls Lee from the daydreams of his wayward senses.

"Pay attention! This is important." Her voice has an edge now. "I was sent back," she says . "I was sent back because I know the way to Earth. I’ve been there. And I’m supposed to bring the Fleet there.”

"Who sent you?" Lee asks. He wants so badly to believe her, but his desire is a trap. "Who, Kara?"

She shrinks a little from the harshness in Lee's voice, and he winces in turn. For all Kara's toughness and swagger, he's always been able to flay her raw with his words. _How many times did we hurt each other_ , he thinks, _and how deeply?_ Their blows always aim straight for the heart.

"I don't know," she admits softly. "I think it was the Lords of Kobol. I ..." she looks away. "I was ready, Lee. I didn't want to die, but I was ready, like it was time. I remember my bird breaking up and ..."

Lee remembers too, the shower of light that took her from him, the flames still burning in his memory and his nightmares. He promised to fly her wing, but he turned back at the edge of the maelstrom; now he is churlish enough to question the miracle that has given her back to him.

"Then I was back in my cockpit," she says, "and I knew why. I knew I had to tell you the way to Earth."

“Why me?” he asks. “Why am I the only one who can see you?” Though it pains him, he has to say it. "Why didn't they send you to Sam?"

“I think ..." She frowns. "You told me once that people have to have ... trust. In all the worlds, Lee, there is no one else I trust more than you, and no one who'd trust me. It could only be you." She looks down and a nerve twitches in her cheek, the tell-tale signs of her nervousness. "You _do_ believe me, don’t you?”

_Your word. My word. Without trust, what do we have?_

“I trust you,” he says. "I believe you." He believes in nothing else. 

 ***

For four hours, Lee relearns the curves of Kara’s body. The feel of her tongue on his skin, her heels pressing against his ass and her fingernails digging into his shoulders are as familiar as if he’s known them for a thousand nights, instead of only one on New Caprica. Finally, exhaustion replaces desire; Lee sinks back onto the damp and tangled sheets. His eyes have barely closed when Kara digs him in the ribs with a sharp elbow.

 “Uh, uh,” she says. “We have work to do, lover boy.”

 “You’re insatiable,” he mutters, opening his eyes a fraction of an inch. “"Dream on!” Her nose wrinkles in a way that he would find utterly irresistible if he could move a muscle. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

 “Mmmm!” Lee closes his eyes again.

 Kara has other ideas. “Earth!” she says, snapping her fingers. “Remember? My mission?”

 “Right!” Lee sits up, determined to pay attention. There’s a bead of sweat rolling down Kara’s neck into the hollow of her throat; he watches it, mesmerized, until he draws on some reserve of energy to lean forward and lick it away. Kara pushes at him, giggling, and he overbalances right on top of her. Fifteen minutes later, they’re both on their backs staring up at the ceiling. “Maybe we should get dressed,” Lee says. “That might make life easier.”

 ***

Life is definitely not easier. Kara hums a strange tune that Lee’s never heard before, and then waits, with increasing impatience, for Lee to sing it back to her. He’s eternally grateful that the married officers’ quarters are fully soundproofed.

 “Why are we doing this?” he asks her, for the tenth time. The last thing he ever expected to do with Kara was have a music lesson.

 “The song is the key,” she explains, for the tenth time. “We use the song to find Earth.”

 “How does a song help you find anything?”

 “Lee,” Kara says, “I don’t know _why_ the song is important, just that it is. So shut up and try to sing on key.”

 Lee privately thinks that the Lords of Kobol could have been a little more specific with the mission plan, but Kara’s getting the same edge to her voice that she always got with a nugget who disappointed her. So Lee hums the melody she’s just sung.

 “A **half** -tone,” Kara says. “Sing it a **half** -tone lower...”

 Lee tries again. He thinks it’s identical to what Kara’s been singing, but she disagrees. “It’s no use! You’re tone-deaf!” she says, finally, after another fifteen failed attempts. “This is some kind of sick joke. Apollo’s the god of _music_ for frak’s sake ... What were the Lords thinking?”

 “Yeah?” Lee’s throat is sore and he’s stung by her disapproval. “I can’t believe the way to Earth is encoded in a stupid song. They couldn’t just draw you a map?”

 Kara stops frowning. “What did you just say?”

 “I can’t believe that I have to learn a stupid song?”

"That’s **it** ,” she says. “Lee, you’re a genius ...”

 Lee is deeply confused, a feeling that has become all too common for him today. “I thought I was tone-deaf,” he says.

"A tone-deaf genius... Encoded ... Musical notes all have corresponding numbers ...” Kara grabs a pen and some paper from the desk and starts scribbling furiously. Lee glances up at the clock and realizes that he’s got a briefing in the ready room in three minutes and after that he’s on CAP for the next four hours.

 “Kara,” he says, “I have to go.”

 She looks up, all her irritation forgotten. “Godspeed, Apollo!” she says, her voice as sweet as honey, and her lips swollen with his kisses. 

 ***

He tries not to grin at everyone he sees in the corridors of _Galactica_. He imagines they can sense the joy in him, spilling out of him like wine from a brimful goblet; the truth is that, with the exception of Dualla, whose voice is a fraction less mellifluous when she talks to him on the comms, and Colonel Tigh, who shoots him one of his patented one-eyed sneers, no one pays much attention to Lee Adama.

Other people’s happiness is never as interesting as our own, Lee reflects, and for the moment, this suits him perfectly. He wonders whether he should send for Sam, bring him over to _Galactica_ from his civilian ship and tell him that Kara is ... what? Maybe it’s best to follow Kara’s lead and leave Sam out of the equation entirely for now.

 ***

His hours in the air pass slowly; no surprises, which is good, but plenty of time to think, which is bad. Lee has half-convinced himself that he hallucinated all of it, that she’ll be gone when he returns. His hands are icy cold and his heart’s beating double-time when he opens the hatch to his quarters. Kara’s still there, surrounded by crumpled balls of paper. Lee watches her, rejoicing in her presence, in the way the lamplight gilds her hair, the way she taps her pen against her mouth as she thinks. He clears his throat and she looks up, her smile all the homecoming that Lee will ever need.

“I did it,” she says, triumphant.

He comes closer and she hands him a list of numbers, lines of eight followed by lines of seven.

“Do you see?” she says.

"They look like ... coordinates.” He examines them closely while she waits. “Jump coordinates. To Earth?”

"To Earth.” She throws her arms around his neck and draws him in for a deep kiss. “We did it,” she says. “Now we just have to tell the President and the Admiral that we’re going the wrong way.”

 ***

“I don’t suppose there’s any way you'll let me go alone,” Lee begins.

Kara shakes her head. “No,” she says.

“Even if I beg?” he asks.

“Oh, you’ll beg.” Her eyes dance. “Not about this, though.”

Lee’s mission is to convince the President and his father that he’s managed to find the way to Earth all by himself. He needs to accomplish this without mentioning visitations from the dead or the fact that he can’t hold a tune. In short, he needs to accomplish this task without sounding insane. And now he'll have an audience. An impatient and sometimes short-tempered audience that only he can see.

“You can’t say _anything_ ,” he tells her. “Not one word to me, Captain Thrace.”

"Yes, sir, Major Adama, sir,” Kara salutes him, though her giggle spoils the effect.

***

Lee’s had to make an appointment to see his father, whose daily consultations with the President seem to be taking place more and more often on _Galactica_. He’s worn his dress uniform, hoping to lend authority to his dubious quest, even though Kara tells him it makes him look like a little boy. The Admiral and the President are distracted by Baltar’s trial, or more specifically, by the murder of Baltar’s lawyer, who was found in the petty officers’ mess with his head smashed in.

“They couldn’t get at Baltar,” the President is saying. “So they attacked poor Alan Hughes instead.”

“The list of suspects is endless,” the Admiral says wearily. “Everyone who was on New Caprica, for starters.”

“Do you think I made a mistake?” Roslin asks him. “Holding the trial?”

"Damn straight it’s a mistake,” Kara mutters to Lee. “She should’ve airlocked that frakker as soon as she got her hands on him.”

For once, Lee is glad no one else can see or hear her. “Stow it, Captain,” he hisses under his breath.

“Major Adama,” Roslin says. “What a nice surprise!”

“Madam President,” Lee says, unsure of his footing with her now. Their friendship seems was a casualty of New Caprica too.

“You want to talk to your father,” she says, “I’m just leaving ...”

Lee shakes his head. “No, Madam President,” he says. “I .. actually, I wanted to talk to both of you.”

Kara moves so she’s behind the Admiral’s desk, facing Lee; surprisingly, her presence emboldens him. “I ... think I’ve found a way to Earth.” Now that he has their attention, he thrusts Kara's scribbled jump coordinates into the President's hand.

Roslin’s eyes narrow; she seems to be considering him as much as the crumpled piece of paper he’s just given her. 

“May I?” the Admiral says, and she hands over the paper without her eyes leaving Lee’s. His father looks over the paper and Lee sees the same look of recognition on the Admiral’s face that he experienced earlier. “Jump coordinate. How did you get these?”

“Before ... Kara ... Before Starbuck died,” Lee says. “She and I ...” His mind is suddenly blank; he’s forgotten the story that they cooked up just fifteen minutes ago.

“Temple of Jupiter,” Kara mouths. “Research material. Lion Nebula.”

“We went back to some of the coordinates from the Temples of Athena and Jupiter ... and we tried to figure out how the jumps might work if we looked at the sequences in non-linear patterns.” He points to the first two lines of numbers. “This is the route to the Lion Nebula,” he says.

“These numbers don’t match the Fleet’s jump sequences,” the Admiral says.

“No, sir,” Lee says and takes a deep breath before he says what he needs to say. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“You’re asking me to move the entire Fleet in another direction based on a hunch that you and Captain Thrace had before she died?” When Roslin puts it that way, it sounds completely ridiculous. "I'm afraid that's impossible."

Lee tries not to look at Kara, afraid of what he’ll see in her face.

Then the Admiral clears his throat.

“Bill?” Roslin says. 

"There might be something to it,” the Admiral says. “Starbuck’s hunches were usually pretty good.”

Roslin pauses for what seems like an age. Finally she says, “So are Captain Apollo’s. I’ll take this under advisement. Thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

***

"Advisement?” Kara snorts. “That’s politician-speak for ‘no’, isn’t it?”

“It’s more of a definite ‘maybe’,” Lee says. “She did say she’d make a decision within forty-eight hours.”

They walk the rest of the way to Lee’s quarters in silence.

"Do you think she’ll agree?” Kara asks as Lee strips off his sash. She’s lost all her swagger; she looks anxious and tired. The dark circles under her eyes send a pang through Lee’s heart and he takes her in his arms.

“Yes,” he says, with a confidence he doesn’t feel.

The tension drains out of her; she relaxes into his arms. He rests his cheek on her hair, closes his eyes, and imagines that this moment will never end.

***

Lee spends twelve of the next forty-seven hours on CAP, three of them doing paperwork (inefficiently, with Kara making comments and suggestions over his shoulder), nine of them sleeping with Kara pinioned in his arms, in case she should disappear while he’s unconscious, and twenty-three hours arguing, playing Triad, reminiscing, drinking, and frakking. If Kara didn't tense in nervous anticipation every time she looked at the clock, Lee might say these were the happiest hours of his life so far.

In the forty-eighth hour, he’s summoned to his father’s quarters. This time Kara doesn’t insist on accompanying him.

***

“I’m sorry, Lee,” Roslin says. “I trust you and your judgement utterly, but I can’t entrust the safety of the Fleet to some theories and guesswork.”

“It’s not a hunch,” Lee starts to say and then he realizes that the truth will make his case even weaker. _Kara returned from the dead to teach me a song_. That sounds suspicious even to him. He tries a different tack. “Dad,” he says. “Those are Kara’s calculations. You always said she had a knack for thinking outside the box.”

The Admiral looks down, as if he’s pained by this conversation.

 "You always trusted Kara,” Lee says to him. “Always.”

"The President is right,” the Admiral says. “Son, it’s not that I don’t believe you ... It’s just that this is only a hunch, and we can’t afford to be wrong.”

"You _are_ wrong,” Lee says. “You’re going to the wrong way. Our calculations ...”

"That’s enough, Major Adama,” the Admiral warns him. “You’re dismissed.”

There’s nothing Lee can say that will convince either Roslin or his father right now. He can see it in their faces, and he can’t do anything for anyone sitting in the brig. So he snaps a crisp salute and turns on his heel. In a supreme act of will, he refrains from slamming the hatch or punching anything or anyone on his way out.

***

"I'm sorry, Kara,” Lee tells her. “I did my best.”

"This is why I _died_ , Lee,” she says. She has the same haunted look she wore before she flew into the storm that killed her. “Why I was sent back. I thought you believed me.”

"I do,” Lee says. “Never doubt that." 

"You have to fight for what you believe in, Lee!”

"Kara,” he tells her, "believe that I will always fight for you. I swear it. I’ll keep trying. I’ll talk to my dad again, without the President there to influence him.” But the truth is that the Admiral and the President nearly always act as one these days. He will never convince either of them separately.

"Oh, Lee!” She takes his hands in hers and Lee is filled with foreboding.

She swallows hard. “This was my chance,” she says. “My one chance.”

Doubt grips Lee before she speaks.  _Please don't leave me,_ he thinks. Not even the gods could be so cruel. To bring her back, and then take her again.  _Of course they are cruel. They stood aside when the Cylons destroyed humankind._

"I can’t stay,” she says, and her words, so softly spoken, are like poisoned barbs under his skin. She kisses him gently, and releases his hands. “I was sent here to give you Earth, and I did. Whatever happens, remember that I loved you that much.”

***

She’s at the hatch before he can stop her, leaving him forever.

Lee follows her at a dead run, careless of curious glances and annoyed curses as he bumps into people, but she’s always just out of his reach. At last he turns the corner into a short corridor that leads to an empty storage locker. He checks the locker just in case, but she’s gone.

"Kara,” he shouts. “Kara, come back.” His voice echoes in the deserted space. He sinks down onto the floor and stares out into his future. For a second and final time, Kara will cross Acheron, the river of woe. He will spend his days stranded on this distant shore, dying slowly until he can rejoin her. Or, if he’s lucky, he’ll meet a Cylon Raider tomorrow.

***

His room is still full of her presence, fine blonde hairs on his pillow, a half-smoked stogie he had to bribe three Marines to get his hands on, crumpled balls of paper ringing the wastebasket. He grabs one of them, and smoothes it out, just to see her handwriting, to hold something she touched. He looks down at the numbers and notes, and realizes what he has to do. It takes him five minutes to suit up, and another thirty-five figuring out what he’s going to say to the LSO. The CAG flying a Raptor alone on a research mission isn’t exactly SOP, but Kelly is too preoccupied with the explosion on the flight deck that killed Baltar’s second lawyer to ask too many questions.

Lee clears _Galactica_ ‘s airspace, and enters the FTL coordinates he memorized. He does his flight checks, flips the switches, and braces himself for his first jump on the route to Earth. “I’m coming for you, Kara,” he whispers, and he seems to hear the faintest echo of her voice.

"See you on the other side.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in January 2011, on my now-deleted LiveJournal, reposted here because I'm in the middle of an outbreak of PILOT LOVE!


End file.
